


I Said I Love You

by Merkey666



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Awkward Crush, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Pining, Vines, Yeah there are vines in this leave me alone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-20
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-17 17:09:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13081425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merkey666/pseuds/Merkey666
Summary: Pete is awkwardly invited to a holiday party by his crush, and he doesn't really know how to deal with that information. Despite being an absolute mess when around his crush, he goes anyway. It doesn't go as badly as it could've.





	I Said I Love You

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so last year I did this thing where I posted a new work every day for the six days leading up to Christmas: the 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, and 25. And it was hell last year and I hated every single fucking moment of it, so of course I'm gonna do it again this year. 
> 
> This one is the shortest out of all of them, so hold on tight if you plan to read them all. Good luck tbh
> 
> DISCLAIMER: THIS HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH MY OTHER HIGH SCHOOL AU SERIES. THIS IS NOT CORRELATED TO DOATB

“It’s gonna happen.”

“No, it’s not.” 

“Yeah, it is.”

“No, Patrick, it’s not.”

“Whatever you say, Mr. ‘Oh, ‘Trick his eyes are so dreamy! He’s so wonderful!’,” Patrick mocked. 

Pete shoved him aside, covering his flushed cheeks with the book he was supposed to be reading. It wasn’t all too interesting, and he’d have lied to get it out of the way before the real holidays began, so he could actually enjoy himself. But book finished or not, Patrick was still gonna whine about some bullshit Christmas miracle that Pete did not believe in in the slightest. 

Patrick fell to the floor, nearly knocking over his mug of cocoa stuffed sky high with mini-marshmallows. He reached out for Pete, the tips of his fingers nearly brushing against him. “You may kill me, but you cannot kill the truth!” he moaned. Pete rolled his eyes, but defeatedly set down his book. 

“Fine. You believe in this so strongly. Use your mind powers and tell me what’s going to happen. Entertain me,” he demanded, sitting back on the couch. Patrick rose back up from the floor and took a seat next to him. Pete tucked his legs in to remind him of how icy he was currently feeling. 

“Alright,” Patrick agreed. “I’ll entertain your sick fantasies. Just so I can see you smile today, because you’re more of a grinch than the actual grinch, to tell you the truth. Here we go- Activating magic mind powers… Ah, yes. Here it is. I see you, Pete, at his house. I’m there too. So is Frank, unfortunately. I know you don’t like him very much. Oh, well. The Christmas tree fell over at some point during the night- Did I mention it’s night? Well, it is. There’s eggnog and it’s definitely got some kick to it, or I hope it does, because otherwise Gerard is officially doing crack. I think we might have all known that one, though. And, of course, your crush is here too… The both of you are talking, everyone is disapproving… Ooh, I’m smelling Romeo and… Julian, I guess. There’s a snowball fight and- ah, yes. A Christmas miracle. A miracle that someone actually likes your ugly ass-“ Pete kicked Patrick off the couch, while laughing so hard his stomach hurt. Patrick was laughing too, even as his half-drinken, lukewarm hot cocoa topped off the coffee table and onto him. Pete’s phone buzzed.

“That’s the Christmas spirit!” Pete laughed as he picked up the phone, still giggling. “Hello? Who’s this?” 

There was a small burst of static before a voice spoke up. “Hey! Is this Pete? Sorry, my brother gave me your number and he’s kind of an ass sometimes so I didn’t know if this was the right number or-“

“Yeah, okay, who is this?” Pete cut in. Patrick was using the blanket on the couch to wipe himself off, eagerly listening into Pete’s conversation. 

“Oh, uh, sorry. This is Mikey, Gerard’s younger brother.” 

Pete sat, frozen in time, stuck to his chair. His stomach dropped out of his body and a chill wind coming from nowhere made goosebumps rise up on his skin. He stuttered to respond, thinking he sounded like an idiot. “S-Sorry, yeah, um, I’m- this is- What do you want?” Both of the boys on the couch cringed.

“I just wanted to know if you wanted to come over tonight. Gerard’s having his boyfriend over and I really don’t want to be alone with the two of them. If you want to bring some other people too, that’d be great. I was told you’re the person to go to if you want to invite a lot of people to something, and I’ve got alcohol as a bargaining chip. Don’t worry, though, it’s still festive. The alcohol’s in the eggnog, so I think that counts. You in?”

Pete’s heart was palpitating oddly, he could feel it under his shirt from the hand resting over it. He looked at Patrick for help, but he just shrugged. 

‘Got plans?’ Pete mouthed. Patrick shook his head.

“Still there?” Mikey asked.

“Yeah, sorry. Sure, I’m in.”

“Sounds good. Be here at 3:30, ‘kay? Sun sets so early, I want to have some daylight.”

“I’ll be there… pal.” 

There was awkward silence on the line while Pete and Patrick non-verbally shouted at each other, cringing really badly. There was a beep- Mikey hung up. 

“I don’t mean to be a bad friend or anything but-“ Patrick burst out laughing before he could finish the sentence, and Pete didn’t even care. No matter what he did or said, there was no recovering from that. While Patrick was mocking his slip-up, Pete checked his watch. He had a little under an hour to get ready, and debating his first course of action. Internally, he was going over every word he’d said and over-analyzing it as best he could, while at the same time he was trying to put together some sort of plan so he didn’t throw up out of nervousness. Patrick excused himself to go clean up his shirt before the get together, not to say that Pete heard a word of it. 

“Okay,” he said to himself, unfreezing his body and pretending to act normal. “Just- just put together a list of who you’re gonna call and then call them. Then, get dressed and go. Simple.” He didn’t feel like it was at all simple, but he went along with what his mouth told him. He grabbed a paper napkin from the coffee table and pulled a pen out of his pocket. Names blanketed the paper in a matter of seconds, timing up with Patrick returning to the room perfectly.

Patrick looked over the names and gave his un-asked for seal of approval. “You go get ready, I’ll handle the inviting.”

“I can do that myself, Patrick. I’m not completely inept,” Pete spat back.

“Unless you’re thinking about your crush, and I can tell from the red in your cheeks that you are, so go do something productive while I call your nasty friends, okay? Unless you want to show up to his house in day old sweats and a t-shirt with grease stains on it. Your call here,” Patrick said. 

Pete groaned and felt like a huge, useless lump as he sulked away, dragging his fingers against the walls of his house. He, unfortunately, caught sight of himself in the mirror, and really wished he hadn’t because he looked like a human grease stain. It was winter break, after all. He didn’t have a reason to go outside unless it was to play soccer or go over to someone else house, and there were plenty of things to do inside. And under that logic, he hadn’t left the house in six days, which wasn’t a problem to him. But now he saw what had become of the pizza and eggnog vacuum that he was, and boy, was he foul. 

“I’m gonna take a shower!” he called to Patrick.

“Thank God!” Patrick replied, winking playfully. 

Pete ignored him and moped into the bathroom, feeling gross. He turned the fan on, he turned the water on, and when he looked in the foggy mirror, he found just one more thing to be turned on. He cracked his knuckles and sighed. That was all the deliberation he needed, so he stripped and hopped into the shower, knowing the encounter with Mikey would be a lot weirder after that.

***

“Not to be cheesy or anything,” Pete muttered, staring out the front window. “But I actually cannot breathe right now.” He felt cold throughout his entire body, despite the heat being on in the car and him being in at least seventy different layers of clothing. The only part of him that felt at all warm were his cheeks, and they felt like fire. 

“You’ll be fine,” Patrick said as he parked in the driveway of Mikey’s house. “Remember what you kept telling me earlier? He probably doesn’t even like you, so you’ve got no reason to worry about embarrassing yourself, right?”

Pete stared at him. “You are the worst friend.”

Patrick smirked. “I know.”

Pete left the car without another word, crossing his arms as he walked up the slippery front steps. There was a shriek from inside- always a good sign -and a moment later, Mikey flung open the door. Behind him were boxes of decorations that couldn’t possibly have had anything in them, because there was so much tinsel, so many lights, so many figurines on every surface that could bee seen, that there was simply no room for whatever was in those boxes, labelled “Christmas”. 

“Hey,” Mikey smiled at them, moving out of the way to let them in. Patrick went right on in but Pete hovered for a moment, pretending to be staring at the decorations, when he was really staring at Mikey.

“You look great,” he mumbled before he had the chance to stop himself. Thank God he mumbled.

“What?” 

“I said, sorry I’m late,” he panicked. 

Mikey looked a little confused. “…You’re early.” 

Pete nodded in agreement, walking inside and intending to go die in the nearest corner he could find. He felt a clap on his back from Patrick who was really trying his best not to laugh too loudly, as to set off any alarms, but it was a struggle. Pete threw him off and crossed his arms again, glaring intently at his “friend”. Pete was very glad they weren’t the only people there. He recognized a few school friends that Mikey hung out with, as well as some of Gerard’s friends, and, of course, Frank. Pete made a considerable effort to avoid Frank, who seemed to be on equal standings with that idea. 

Patrick branched off to go talk to some friends of his, which was all good and swell with Pete until Mikey cornered him, and all of the sudden it was just the two of them chatting in the kitchen.

“If you’re hungry, there’s some snacks. I would say I’m sorry to drag you into this mess, but I’m not,” he said casually.

“…Okay?” Pete looked around at the Christmas lights strung where the walls met the ceiling. In the fading natural light that came through the bolted windows, they cast shadows on the ceiling, giving the entire room a much more surreal feeling. When Mikey wasn’t looking at him, Pete shyly watched the colors bounce off of his irises, turning his brown eyes other colors. He looked anywhere in the room just to avoid looking at Mikey, because he knew he’d stare, and he knew he’d get caught, and he knew everything would get awkward and that’s not at all what he wanted. A lesser known fact about Pete, Mr. ‘No-love-lost-on-love’, was that the one thing he hated above the American government were crushes. He hated them. 

Why couldn’t he just be aware that he liked someone and not get all blushy and nervous around them? Why couldn’t he just enjoy their presence without making things weird between them? All those feelings didn’t amplify the way he felt about Mikey, they only created a wall between what he wanted and what he couldn’t have. And that’s exactly why he hated where he was at the moment:

Leaning over the kitchen island in Mikey’s kitchen, staring at the ceiling while he couldn’t hear a thing, other than every breath Mikey took, or the crash of thunder whenever Mikey blinked. He couldn’t hear the Christmas tunes playing from the speaker on top of the fridge. He couldn’t hear the chatter of people in other rooms. Nor could he smell the eggnog in the cup Mikey was nursing, or the incense he knew was burning by the fireplace he’d passed on his way in. Or the cinnamon in the air that he knew was there. What about sugar cookies baking? Or candy canes? No, all he could smell was Mikey’s coconut shampoo, and the worst of it all was that the only thought he could register in his mind was about whether Mikey was feeling just as stuck as he was. 

“So, do you play any instruments?” Mikey asked, breaking the trance Pete had been swept into. 

“Bass,” Pete answered, only because it was hardwired into his brain. He thought that was just about the only question he could answer under these circumstances. 

“No way,” Mikey began to smile, and so did Pete, as if Mikey were looking into a mirror. “So do I!”

“Seriously? That’s so cool, how long have you played?” Pete asked, auto piloting his way through the situation. 

“Not that long, but I’m getting there. You?”

“Longer than I can remember.” 

Mikey pursed his lips and looked into his cup. “Maybe you could give me some lessons, some time.”

Pete shook in his own skin. “Y-yeah, sure!” 

“Awesome, thanks a lot. I really like playing, but I don’t take lessons or anything, so I can only get so far on my own. It’s really fun, though,” Mikey smiled. Pete saw the red and green reflecting off of his eyes, and the way it melted into his skin and made him such a masterpiece to behold. He saw his long fingers that grasped the ceramic cup, tapping to the music Pete couldn’t hear. He saw the way Mikey’s glasses were so far down his nose that Mikey definitely could not be seeing through them, and Pete smiled at the thought. 

“You’re wonderful,” he replied. Then he froze, and quickly unfroze to recover his misspeaking. “I- I meant playing bass is- is wonderful. That’s what I meant.” No matter what he said, there was no returning from that, he thought. 

Thank God there was. 

A most magnificent crash came from the living room, and laughter following a moment later. Mikey set down his cup slowly and rolled his eyes up at the ceiling. Pete had an inkling he knew what had just happened, even if he himself didn’t. Mikey excused himself politely and stormed into the living room, and Pete followed, not knowing what else to do. 

There, where the Christmas three had been, was empty wall space. The Christmas tree was now acting as an interpretive rug piece, with Frank squashed under it. Gerard was next to him, rolling around and laughing uncontrollably, and Pete nor Mikey had the words to ask what had happened. Now running on pure adrenaline alone, Pete pivoted and walked to the farthest end of the kitchen, as far back as he could go while still keeping an eye on Mikey. It wasn’t long before Mikey got bored of dwelling over his idiot brother and followed Pete’s footsteps towards the archway before the back door. 

“What will your parents say?” Pete asked, keeping the conversation light before he inevitably slipped up again. 

“They’re not gonna find out. I’ll put it back up tonight after Gee’s abandoned me for Frank.” On that note, Mikey turned his glare away from the living room, and with a half smirk on his face, looking directly at Pete.

“I heard,” he said mysteriously, “that you don’t like Pete very much. Pray tell?” 

Pete shrugged. “Just kinda seems like an asshole.”

“Well, he is, but there’s gotta be more of a reason for the infamous Pete Wentz to hate Frank.” Infamous. Mikey had called him infamous. 

“I don’t think that’s a story you could handle. You’re just a little sophomore, Mikeyway. I’m a big, bad junior,” Pete replied.

“That’s right, you are a little junior,” Mikey replied, measuring Pete’s height in comparison to his. He received a shove while Pete laughed out a quiet “fuck off”. “And I dunno, Pete,” Mikey said, looking back over at the fallen Christmas tree. “There’s a lot I can handle.”

Pete’s breath left his lungs and didn’t come back. Instead, while Mikey’s attention was on the tree, even if it was just there for another second, Pete stared at him and soaked up every moment of it. He noticed, for the first time, Mikey had little smile lines on his cheeks, but he never saw them because Mikey rarely smiled at school. Then the moment was over and Mikey looked back and to avoid being caught, Pete did the only thing he could think of and chugged a cup of eggnog, only to find it heavily spiked. Oh, well. 

Mikey began to laugh again at the look on Pete’s face, bringing back those smile lines, and Pete’s heart rate kicked it up a notch. Pete decided he only ever wanted to hear one sound again for the rest of his life, and that was Mikey’s laugh. And so he spit it out without thinking first. 

“I love you.”

Mikey stopped laughing, looking kinda confused. “What’d you say?” 

Pete panicked.

“I said, 'above you’.” 

Mikey looked up, as did Pete, and Pete’s stomach dropped out of his body. There was a sprig of mistletoe hanging above them in the archway, and the only thing going through Pete’s highly alarmed mind was F U C K. Mikey made an ‘oh’ shape with his mouth, and pushed his glasses back up to where he could use them. He could see Pete clearly, and so Pete hoped with all his strength that the dim light in the room was enough to hide his excruciating blush. He really wanted to look away and avoid the situation getting and worse, but he couldn’t bring himself to. He was daydreaming about what he was seeing.

He had to be.

Because he was very sure that Mikey wasn’t really putting a hand on the back of his neck, and closing his eyes. He just couldn’t be leaning in… 

Pete started to hear a weird, smudged version of all the sounds going on. Like he was underwater, feeling Mikey’s fingers tapping against the back of his neck. Feeling his lips press against his. A synth played in his mind, small clicks and beeps, and the sounds of a world-wide fire being quenched. Mikey’s glasses pressed against his cheeks, and he sighed a little. He wondered when the daydream would end, and where he’d wake up. And he felt selfish for wanting it to end. Because then when it did and he was still standing there, feeling Mikey’s lips when they were no longer there, he wished he’d enjoyed a little more while he still could. 

The synth slowed and the bubbling of his blood and the pound of his heart beat replaced it. And Mikey was already talking to a group of people not to far away, so Pete wondered how long he’d stood there before coming to. Mikey’s voice was in his ears, but they took their own time in computing it for him to understand. 

“What about a snowball fight before the light’s completely gone?” he suggested to the group of people. Pete turned his body a little to look as though he wasn’t comatose, even if he felt like he still was. It was finally then that the words “snowball fight” hit him, and he perked up on sight. Only to meet a collective groan from his peers, and to catch a few stray angry glances that he was sure he’d perpetrated.

“Not with him,” one kid said, pointing at Pete. “Never again.” Pete was sure he knew the kid and just couldn’t place him.

“WUSS!” Pete shouted back, shrugging it off. 

Mikey had a curious smile on his face as he looked back at Pete. “Why not?” he asked, glancing back and forth between Pete and the kid.

“Oh, you’ll see,” Pete warned, grabbing Mikey by the hand and dragging him out the back door behind them. Boy, was he glad he was faster than Mikey because if Mikey had seen the blush on his face when he’d grabbed his hand, then the cat would’ve been out of the bag for good. He finally let go and jogged a few more steps until he found a good bank of snow to fight with. Mikey threw off his gloves and reached down for some snow, but Pete was faster than that. He already had a projectile in his hand and threw it the moment Mikey took his eyes off of him. It caught him in the neck, and Mikey shrieked, dropping his snowball in hope of getting snow out of his shirt. 

Pete threw another. And another. Mikey barely had time to get a few of his snowballs airborne, between blocking Pete’s and not falling over. He turned his back to avoid getting any in the face, and Pete smirked. That was his big mistake. He grabbed a large handful of snow and made a break for it. Mikey didn’t even have time to register it. Pete slam dunked the handful of snow into the back of Mikey’s shirt, and they both fell over, cackling maniacally. 

“Now I know why no one would play with you!” Mikey howled.

“What- is there something wrong with my balls?” Pete asked. Mikey threw a half assed snowball that was mostly dirt in Pete’s direction. Then he fell limp and panted on the cold ground. Pete waited for him to stand up, but he just stared at him.

“Oh, come on. Don’t tell me you’re chickening out already!” There was a beat of silence that was just the two of them breathing, staring at each other intensely. 

All of the sudden Mikey flung himself up and before Pete could ready himself, Mikey barreled him over and they both hit the ground again. Pete laughed at first and when he stopped laughing, Mikey was still on top of him, smiling and- much to the dismay of his finally steadying heart rate -biting his lip. Pete swallowed, hard. Just as he’d suspected, his shower was coming back to bite him in the ass, and not in a good way. As though Mikey knew exactly what to do in order to get Pete’s attention, he leaned down just a little, so the tips of their frostbitten noses could touch. /What it going to happen again?”/ Then, with his full strength, shoved a handful of snow up Pete’s shirt, bounding away, cracking himself up.

“-BITCH!” Pete shouted, struggling to regain control of his emotions. He grabbed a handful of snow and to the best of his ability, flung it in Mikey’s general direction. Only, it missed by a long shot and nailed Patrick in the face instead. Pete hadn’t even noticed him come outside, but then again, he’d been a little preoccupied. 

“I don’t really know what I expected,” Patrick grumbled, returning back inside. Pete dropped to his knees, laughing and clutching his side-stitch, before finally collapsing in the snow next to Mikey. There wasn’t too much snow left packed on the ground after the two of them had scooped most of it up. There were a few minutes that followed where all that could be heard from the street was the laughter of the two of them, occasionally muffled by one of them rolling over. Then, after a few airy breaths, calmness settled back down, along with the arrival of formal night. 

Mikey looked up at the sky, waiting for a star or two to come out, but so far all he could see was his breath. And all Pete could see was Mikey. Mikey must’ve noticed Pete at some point, because after not too long, he whispered.

“Happy Chrism.”

As if he’d been waiting for this his entire life, Pete quickly replied, “It’s Chrismim.”

“Happy Chrysler.”

“Merry Crisis,” Pete mumbled, giggling just a tad. There was a break in the action and Pete slowly wondered what would happen if he did what he’d been wanting to do all evening. It had worked before, so why not try it again?

“I love you,” he whispered, not looking at Mikey.

“What’d you say?” he asked quietly. And Pete took those few milliseconds to debrief with himself. 

And then, with complete and total confidence, he replied, “I said I love you.” Pete sat up a little bit, holding himself up with his elbow, and now looking Mikey dead in the eyes. It was weird, because he’d never truly felt so alive. 

Mikey cocked his head towards him and smiled a little bit, as if he was trying to hold it back. Pete gave in and smiled back, with full intention of showing him exactly what he’d said. Mikey reached up and wrapped his hand around the back of Pete’s neck, and it seemed to Pete like he was egging him on… or maybe that was just the daydreaming…

Pete leaned down and pressed his lips onto Mikey’s, and that same underwater feeling came back to him. And this time, he liked it. It made him feel like it was just the two of them in their little bubble. He didn’t need to hear the Christmas carols or the chatter of people he didn’t know. Not when he had Mikey’s laugh to hear. Or his fingers to feel. Or his hair to smell, or his company to enjoy. 

This time it was Pete who pulled away, even if only for a second. Mikey kept his eyes closed while Pete gently set his glasses aside and kissed him again. Now he could feel Mikey’s eye lashes press against his cheeks, and he smiled in spite of himself. Mikey smiled too. Together, the two of them opened their eyes and while there were no more Christmas lights to entertain Mikey’s irises, they were just fine on their own. Pete ran his fingers through Mikey’s hair and didn’t dare to look away…

“You know,” Mikey said, no longer able to bite back the smile on his lips or the twinkle in his eyes. “I heard you the first time.”

Pete couldn’t even bother to be bothered by that. He was pretty sure, deep down, he already knew that.


End file.
